


i'm laughing, i'm crying (it feels like i'm dying)

by anyastasia



Series: there's a bond that exists between father and child (with no end to how strong it can grow) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, DadSchlatt, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, baby tubbo, schlatt adopts tubbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyastasia/pseuds/anyastasia
Summary: schlatt doesn't know when tubbo's birthday is, so he gets creative with it. two days before christmas.(part 2 to my dadschlatt au / technically a tubbo birthday fic / TW: ALCOHOL ABUSE)
Relationships: Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: there's a bond that exists between father and child (with no end to how strong it can grow) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068083
Comments: 11
Kudos: 401





	i'm laughing, i'm crying (it feels like i'm dying)

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this fic is about the CHARACTERS of dream smp, not the actual people. if this crosses any lines then it shall be deleted!
> 
> TW: alcohol abuse and alcoholism !!!!! please be careful if these make you go ew and augh!
> 
> title is from pity party by melanie martinez <3
> 
> happy birthday tubbo!!!!

_ goddammit, phil,  _ schlatt thought.  _ you were right. this darn kid is changing me. _

philza was very much correct when he had said that taking care of tubbo would keep the drinks out of his hands. any moment schlatt wasn’t touching him, tubbo would make his discomfort  _ very _ much known - whether it be a tantrum or incessant whining, if schlatt so much as looked away from him, there would be hell to pay.

the first few weeks with tubbo were the hardest - figuring out when he ate, when he needed to go down for a nap, what his favorite distractions were. those were the days schlatt felt the most frustrated, the days that he was tempted to pick up the phone and demand philza call him back. but that would hurt his pride too much. he was determined to figure out how kids worked, without help from philza.

soon a common routine fell into place - tubbo would wake schlatt with his crying, they’d have breakfast, they’d watch tv together, and then have lunch. after lunch tubbo went down for a nap, and then they played a game or went out for a walk. after that tubbo had dinner and schlatt tucked him into his own bed and had a  _ small  _ drink before joining him a few hours later.

he had to applaud himself - this was the least he’d drank in years. he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been (mostly) sober for this long. tubbo really  _ was _ changing him for the better. he kind of hated that philza was right.

three weeks flew by and schlatt felt pretty comfortable in his position with tubbo. the boy was comfortable as well, familiar with the house and with schlatt. he still didn’t talk - maybe he still needed to learn - so schlatt talked for him. he talked to the boy like he was an adult, not bothering with that silly baby voice people used. he talked to him while he was preparing his meals, while they were out on walks, or if they were just sitting together. tubbo’s big blue eyes seemed to never leave schlatt, so he assumed he was listening. it was a strange comfort, to have someone to care for. to have someone to listen.

the middle of december was slow, and more often than not schlatt and tubbo were kept inside by freezing windchills and ice making their familiar sidewalks perilous. instead, schlatt would stoke a fire early in the evening and keep it going until he went to bed. christmas was approaching, and he had already written a list of everything he wanted to get tubbo. nothing extravagant - schlatt was unemployed with a tight budget as-is, but philza also said he would chip in with a few gifts and a playdate with his boys. schlatt watched tubbo play with his bee stuffie on the floor as he sat in his recliner, having a coke and reading over his list for the thousandth time, trying to think of anything he forgot.

“new stuffie...blankets...some new baby clothes,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at tubbo. the boy was giggling to himself as he bounced the bee around, grinning his baby-teeth smile that made schlatt grin.

“maybe some treats too-” schlatt mumbled, picking up his pen and scribbling  _ desserts  _ on the bottom of his list. “i dunno if this kid has ever had sweets - wait. kid, when’s your birthday?”

tubbo seemed to respond to  _ kid _ just as well as he did to  _ tubbo _ , so his head perked up at the nickname, his big blue eyes staring at schlatt with a slightly open mouth. he tilted his head to the side, as if inquisitive.

schlatt pursed his lips. “did phil never tell me when your birthday was?” he mumbled, pulling out his phone and dialing philza’s number.

the phone rang a few times before it was picked up in a flurry of motion. “hello?” a voice that wasn’t philza’s said. it was much younger and decidedly more british. 

schlatt sighed. “wilbur, give the phone to your dad, please.”

“go away!” wilbur shouted into the phone, making schlatt wince and hold the phone away from his ear. “you’re a smelly goat-”

the phone was wrestled away from wilbur in another explosion of motion until philza’s tired voice came on the other line. “hey. sorry about him.”

“i’m used to it,” schlatt mused, watching tubbo crawl over to his ring toy. “hey, did you ever find out when tubbo’s birthday is?”

philza made a sound of confusion. “his birthday…? nope. it wasn’t anywhere on the box. why?”

“because i want this kid to have a birthday,” schlatt said blatantly. “he shouldn’t grow up without knowing when his birthday is.”

philza hummed. “well, then - make one up. that’s what we did for techno. what about, hm - tomorrow?”

schlatt scoffed. “december twenty-third? two days before christmas day? that’s like a death sentence to a kid.”

he heard philza shrug on the other side of the line. “he gets twice the presents. look, i can give you some of the toys wilbur and techno are too old for, and we can give them to him tomorrow for his birthday. you guys can bake a cake or something. it’ll be his, uh - his second birthday. he’s turning two.”

schlatt sighed. “well, i don’t know when else i’d have it. december twenty-third it is.”

philza laughed lightly. “i’ll bring those toys over tomorrow morning. we still on for that christmas playdate?”

schlatt smiled. “yeah, sure. at  _ your _ house.”

a few minutes of small talk later, schlatt hung up the phone and stood up, scooping tubbo up in his arms. the kid already looked tired, eyes half-lidded. he held tight onto his bee stuffie as he leaned his head into schlatt’s chest.

“come on, little lamb,” schlatt murmured, heading up the stairs to his room. “you’ve got a big day tomorrow. it’s your  _ birthday _ .”

even though he couldn’t speak yet, tubbo did make little baby sounds whenever he was mad, happy, sad, or wanted something. and at the mention of his birthday, he gave a toothless smile and made a happy little  _ aah _ noise.

schlatt grinned. “yeah, little man. your birthday! you’re gonna get toys, cake, and we’re gonna have a ton of fun…”

he continued talking aimlessly about the next day as he tucked tubbo into the right side of his bed - he knew that babies and toddlers probably shouldn’t sleep in queen-sized beds, but schlatt was too broke to afford a crib and it was better than a pallet on the floor.

tubbo reached out and ran his little hands along schlatt’s horns as he tucked the blankets around him like a burrito - a nightly routine. tubbo was infatuated with schlatt’s horns and just liked  _ touching _ them. his eyes were wide in the dark as he traced the facets in the keratin, open-mouthed. schlatt lay next to him and let him touch his curly horns until finally, he fell asleep, one little hand on the tip of his horn.

schlatt carefully slid out of bed and went back downstairs, opening the closet where he was keeping all of tubbo’s christmas presents. he decided to sacrifice an action figure and a coloring book to his birthday presents - knowing philza, he would bring over a ton of stuff that would suffice for all of schlatt’s other missing presents.

when schlatt woke up the next morning (before tubbo, which was a rarity) philza’s bag of gifts was on the front step. schlatt had been right in the assumption that philza would bring over way more than he needed - in fact, schlatt reasoned he could save a third of the goodies for christmas.

he made green pancakes and topped them with whipped cream and sprinkles before he went upstairs, smiling to himself as he gently picked tubbo up, waking him from his sleep. he blinked his groggy eyes open and saw schlatt there, and smiled, reaching out to once more run his hand along schlatt’s horn.

“happy birthday, little lamb,” schlatt said, picking up his bee plushie and giving it to tubbo before carrying him downstairs to the kitchen. tubbo made a sound of delight when he saw the pancakes, and schlatt set him down on the counter.

“let me cut them up for you first, buddy,” schlatt reasoned, cutting the pancakes into little pieces before feeding them to tubbo, who waited patiently in between each bite. schlatt made sure to get a dollop of whipped cream on each little bite.

after giving tubbo his birthday breakfast (and feeding his bee plushie an imaginary breakfast, per tubbo’s daily request) schlatt bundled both of them up and decided to give tubbo his first taste of snow. the snow had been falling steadily for a few days now, and now the snow was halfway up to schlatt’s knee. it was even taller for tubbo, who stared at the mysterious white stuff with big eyes, holding his plushie close. schlatt smiled and knelt in the snow, setting tubbo down. tubbo made a sound of surprise and bent down to touch the snow with a gloved hand. after a few moments, he gave a laugh and discarded his bee plushie in favor of crawling through the snow, laughing the whole time.

schlatt followed and made sure he didn’t get stuck headfirst in a snowdrift. at some point tubbo discovered what a snowball fight was (he probably picked that up from tommy, schlatt thought, bemused) and resorted to throwing little snowballs at schlatt, shrieking with laughter every time schlatt pretended that the snow struck him in the heart and killed him, falling dramatically back in the snow. 

they played like that until lunchtime when schlatt took him inside to have his favorite food - dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. tubbo shrieked in delight when he saw the bag and waited patiently with his bee as schlatt prepared them. sometimes schlatt wondered if tubbo was secretly much older than two - he seemed much too mature for his young age.

soon enough the nuggets were ready and tubbo wolfed them down without a second thought. after lunch they watched tubbo’s favorite movie - one of the land before time movies, philza had given it to schlatt in the bag of baby goodies - and after that tubbo went down for a short nap. that gave schlatt all the time he needed to wrap the birthday presents, and for good measure, he wrapped a few christmas ones and placed them underneath their cheap christmas tree.

after tubbo woke up from his nap, they played a little more in the living room before it was dinnertime. schlatt didn’t have much prepared at all for dinner, so tubbo’s magnificent birthday dinner consisted of kraft mac n cheese, cake, and milk. 

tubbo, unsurprisingly, was more than happy with all the junk food he had been eating all day. when it came time for cake, schlatt lit the two candles on the little cake (while holding tubbo on his hip, away from the flame. the way he looked at the fire was a tiny bit frightening) and sang him a happy birthday, bouncing him on his hip until he laughed. blowing out the candles for him, schlatt cut him a slice of cake, and while tubbo ate with his hands he successfully got frosting all over his face, clothes, and bee plush. schlatt grinned at the boy, and supposed since it was a special occasion, he should have a drink. he and tubbo could both have a treat tonight. 

schlatt poured a small glass of bourbon for himself and carried tubbo to the living room, letting him watch disney movies as schlatt cleaned up the kitchen and brought tubbo’s wrapped gifts out to the couch. he finished his first glass and poured himself a second one, not thinking much. two drinks wouldn’t hurt, right?

by the time they were sitting down on the floor and tubbo was tearing open his gifts, schlatt was deep in his third drink, face buried in the glass. his peripheral vision was getting a bit blurry, and he felt slightly woozy as he stood to pick up some of the wrapping paper. tubbo seemed to be delighted in his own world, playing with the wrapping paper and new toys alike. philza had brought him so  _ many _ \- why  _ did _ he bring so many? did he think schlatt couldn’t care for his own son?

the thought that philza thought he was helpless brought a scowl to his face, and he got up to refill his glass, leaving tubbo to open the last few presents. he downed a fourth glass, and then for good measure gulped down a fifth and filled his glass for a sixth. he was definitely drunk now, and he stumbled to the living room, holding onto the wall for balance.

tubbo was still sitting in the middle of the room, staring up at the tv as it played the ending of a movie. wrapping paper was scattered all over the floor, as well as all of his new toys. inebriated, schlatt’s face twisted into a snarl and he staggered into the room.

“what the fuck is this mess?” he slurred, slamming his glass down on a table. tubbo’s head snapped around to look at him, his blue eyes wide. he held his bee plush in his hands, and he brought it up to his chest at schlatt’s yell.

schlatt stumbled further into the room, kicking wrapping paper and a toy truck aside. “you made a fucking mess!” he shouted. “how the fuck are we gonna goddamn clean this, huh?”

tubbo’s eyes went impossibly wider, and then glossy with tears. he clutched his bee tightly, standing on wobbly legs and stumbling backward.

schlatt bent down and picked up the toy truck, nearly falling over. “you don’t need all these  _ stupid toys! _ ” he shouted, hurling the truck at the wall. tubbo whined in fear as the truck broke into pieces against the wall, the wheels flying off and part of the plastic windshield coming out. 

schlatt spotted the presents underneath the measly christmas tree and stormed over, picking one up and throwing it at the opposite wall. “you don’t need _ any _ of this!” he shouted. “nothing! you’re fine with your _ fucking bee plushie! _ ”

tubbo screamed in fear as a present slammed into the wall next to his head, falling to his knees and hugging his bee tight. he was sobbing, screaming in between hiccups of breath, cheeks flushed bright red as schlatt threw toy after toy at the wall, screaming slurred curses at the boy as he destroyed his birthday presents.

finally, after most of the toys were in pieces, schlatt stood panting in the middle of the room, vision blurry and head cloudy. tubbo was still crying on the ground, curled around his bee plushie like he was afraid schlatt would rip it from his hands. schlatt raked a hand through his hair, pulling it out of his eyes.

“fuck your stupid toys,” he muttered. “bull - fucking -  _ shit. _ ”

he stumbled up the stairs, not bothering to take tubbo with him. for all he cared, he could walk out into the snow and get himself adopted again. schlatt didn’t even bother changing out of his clothes as he collapsed on top of his blankets and passed out.

the next morning, he woke up late to the sun shining off of the snow outside. he groaned and rolled over, the pounding in his head declaring loudly that he had a hangover. he barely remembered how many drinks he had had last night - five? six? he took another twenty minutes to finally pull himself out of bed and trudge downstairs.

schlatt made himself some cereal and sat at the kitchen counter, eating slowly. moving his jaw too much hurt his head even more. he felt like he was forgetting something - probably just something from last night. he always tended to do something nasty when he was that drunk.

once he was finished with his cereal, he dumped the empty bowl in the sink and walked into the living room, ready to just vedge on the couch all day and watch football -

well, his living room was a wreck. wrapping paper was scattered all over the floor, with bits of plastic and broken toys across the carpet. he stood in the doorway for a long time, trying in vain to reach through his foggy brain to remember what the  _ hell _ had happened last night. he remembered the cake, the drinks...and him throwing a toy truck at the wall.

“oh,  _ tubbo, _ ” schlatt whispered to himself, cursing lightly.

he searched everywhere for his boy - under the couch, in the cabinets of the tv stand, and even went to the kitchen and searched the bottom cabinets. tubbo couldn’t climb the stairs easily, but he looked upstairs anyway, his cries for tubbo slowly getting more desperate.

schlatt flung open the front door after searching every nook and cranny. “tubbo?” he shouted, beginning to hyperventilate as he got no response. “ _ goddammit,  _ kid, where are you?” 

running back inside, he caught himself on the archway leading into the kitchen to catch his breath. he was going to have a goddamn panic attack - he slid down onto his knees, clutching the doorframe like it was a lifeline.

“ _ tubbo, _ ” he called weakly. “i’m sorry for last night, lamb. i’m sorry, i’m so  _ fucking _ sorry. i’m not gonna do it again. please, tubbo, come on. come here. i-i won’t be scary again. i swear.” tears pricked at his eyes and burned his waterline. “ _ please _ , tubbo, please. please, just - just come to your dad.”

the word  _ dad _ fell past his lips - the first time he had ever referred to himself as such - and he broke, wrapping his arms around himself as he sobbed. he hoped philza wasn’t about to come over with more gifts; seeing a grown man on his knees sobbing his eyes out was bound to be a grisly sight.

schlatt wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, crouched on that floor. it could have been minutes or hours - the only thing that felt real and tangible was the pain that was eating away at him from the inside.

_ did he run away? did he try and find phil? _ schlatt choked on a sob.  _ is he frozen to death, out in a snowdrift somewhere? is he dead because i messed up? _

his mind was doing cartwheels. he slumped over onto his side, his own pain and sorrow making him exhausted. he stayed there on that floor for what seemed like an eternity - until he felt a cold little hand brush against his horn.

schlatt gasped, his eyes fluttering open and stinging from tears. tubbo was crouched in front of him, looking pale, clutching his bee in one hand and lightly touching schlatt’s horn with another. with a cry, schlatt shot upright, grabbing tubbo and pulling him into a hug.

tubbo made a sound of fear and wrenched himself away from schlatt, eyes wide with terror. schlatt stared at him for a moment - oh, right. the kid’s probably goddamn traumatized because of him.

“tubbo,” schlatt said softly. “hey, little lamb. i’m - i’m sorry for what happened. last night - it won’t happen again. it’s not gonna happen again, okay?” he hesitated. “shit, kid, can you even understand me?”

tubbo seemed to seriously consider this question. he looked at schlatt, then at his bee, then back at schlatt.

“papa,” he said easily with a shrug as if he’d been speaking his whole life.

schlatt went still. “oh,” he said in a choked voice. “oh. oh, shit. oh, okay. okay.  _ okay. _ ”

that christmas, tubbo got a whole stack of new toys and a bee plushie girlfriend to go with his first one. schlatt got a clean living room, parenting books, and an empty cabinet that smelled only faintly of liquor. 


End file.
